


Setting the Stage

by passing-fanciful (kageygirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/passing-fanciful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for 5.01, “The Dark Swan.”</p>
<p>Emma takes a moment in the wings before the next act begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the airing of 5.02, "The Price."

“Well done, dearie.”  

She’s standing on a bluff above the town, watching the twinkling lights below, when the voice she’s come to wearily despise breaks into her thoughts from the forest at her back.  " _Love_ the theatrics.“

Storybrooke’s spread out before her like a sand castle begging to be kicked over, but she’s letting time do its work for her, whipping her so-called family and friends into a whirlwind of panic and despair.  She’s been on the other end often enough to know what kind of worried speculation is tearing its way through the group like wildfire, with their memories gone and her pronouncement hanging in the air.  But she’s never been in such a position to savor it before.

And so she turns her glare behind her.  "Weren’t you supposed to go away once I embraced my powers?”  She supposes she should be surprised, but somehow, she’s not–just irritated at the interruption.  "I don’t really need _The Dark One for Dummies_ anymore.“

He sketches a bow, going so far as to turn the toes of his boots up in a flourish.  "Ah, but even in virtual form, the Dark One lies.”  He’s picked up more of the real Rumplestiltskin’s traits the further he’s wormed his way into her head.  As he straightens, he meets her eyes; the reptilian glitter in his doesn’t bother her, not anymore.  "As you know quite well, don’t you?“

Bored.  She’s already bored.  "What do you want?”

He wiggles his fingers before steepling them together and stepping closer to her, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial low.  "The question is, what do _you_ want?“

"Peace and quiet,” she snaps, her voice cold.

She might be used to the eyes, but that giggle he gives still grates on her, a glissando of madness that makes her spine twitch.  "That’s not it.“  He begins to circle her, but she doesn’t bother turning to keep him in sight.  There’s nothing he can do to her, not now.  Nothing anyone can do.  "Peace is the furthest thing from your mind, dearie, and as for quiet?”  He leans over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, his voice a taunting, sing-song rasp, “Quiet means there’s nothing to drown me out.”

Clearly, this little interlude won’t end until she goes along with it, so she folds her arms over her chest, curling her fingers into the tough leather of her scaly coat.  "And what would?“

"Oh, screaming, sobbing, the lamentation of their women, that kind of thing.”  He steps back in front of her and claps his hands together.  "But all of that will come in due time, won’t it?“ he says, with dark, giddy glee.  "As for right now, Emma…”  He’s suddenly in her face, his voice taking on that wheedling tone that she’s grown to know, the one that cuts right past the niceties she’s been taught all her life and invites her to _take_.  "What do you _really_ want?“

And yet, the answer is slow to come to her–a moment of indecision that means the cloying, weak-willed martyr she used to be hasn’t quite been eradicated entirely, is still trying to hold her back.

Well, she’s sick of being held back.  She’s the Dark One, and there are no limits to her power.

And nothing to stop her from taking what–or who–she wants.

The vision of Rumplestiltskin draws back, his face a combination of proud and appalled that might once have made her laugh.  "Well, there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose, but–I do so enjoy the strength of your appetite.”  He circles his hands around one another, little gestures somehow both meaningless and suggestive.  "And what do you plan to do with the pirate?“

She lifts her chin at that.  "Whatever I want.”  

He grins like she’s his prize pupil, showing off teeth as rotten as the heart of the monster he’s mimicking.  "There’s the next errand on your to-do list, then,“ he says, and makes a sweeping gesture towards the sleepy town.  "Because you want quite a bit, don’t you?”

She does.  She really, _really_ does.

The vision fades away slowly, leaving only his voice to linger behind, sullying the air like oily smoke.  "And for that, Emma, you’re really going to need your own place.“


End file.
